This is actually what my chest looked like for two days in Dour.  I was wearing my Africa/Europe t-shirt.  And people kept coming up and touching my body, pointing to their homeland.  It was fun … and stimulating!

***

I forgot to tell you about a blessing, one which didn’t happen right away.  On the train to Dour from Gent on Wednesday, my esophagus problem reared its ugly head once more.  I was having trouble swallowing, feeling that something was building up in my throat.  It was a huge “Oh no!  Please and please, don’t have this continue for five days!”  I needed the festival to be about dancing and talking, not about my health.

And sometime during Wednesday evening the tightness disappeared, and has remained so.  Thank you, whoever takes care of such things.

***

It was in the early hours as I lay in bed.  The nearby music was still blasting.  I heard footsteps outside.  And projected on the wall of my tent was the shadow of silent dancing.  I think it was a woman.  She floated by, her arm in the air, a ribbon trailing behind.  Magical.  Timeless.

***

Thank you, Dour, for the several eating areas full of picnic tables under a huge awning.  A place to sit down, whether I had refreshments or not.  A refuge from the sun.  An opportunity to talk to groups of young people sitting beside me.  Just basic human needs, addressed by the organization.

***

The live music touched people

Such as me

And about 200,000 other souls who came to Dour 2025